


A Woman’s Truth

by Charlie9646



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, Courtly Love, Dark, F/M, Forbidden, Gay Harry, Historical AU, Horses, M/M, Memory Charms, Mpreg, Severus is the same age the rest, Sirius isn’t good in this, Twisting the tale, arranged married, based on King Arthur, mentions of Lily Potter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646
Summary: A tale of love, hatred, secrets, but most of all what family truly means.Our choices affect more than just ourselves.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Jean Potter knew she should not be staring at Draco Malfoy. It was wrong; he was not the man she married a few short years ago. He worked with her husband, though the truth was, her husband showed very little interest in her nowadays. Harry was far too interested in Severus Snape, his ”right-hand man,” as he was called, to give her the time of day.

Draco cast a spell in Ronald Weasley’s direction, which the other man dodged effortlessly before one was fired back at him. It also missed its mark completely. Malfoy laughed and then fired off another. They traded volleys back and forth, neither truly trying to hit the other.

Severus sat down beside her in the grass. His long hair was loosely braided back and his robes were nicer than usual. Visiting with Harry then, she thought. She didn't blame Severus; she was not foolish enough to believe that it was his idea to sleep with her husband. Why would anyone reject the advances of a man in such a high place of power? Harry Potter was functionally a king, though the correct term was commander.

Severus’s mother had been a pureblood witch from a similar class as most of the men and women in this courtyard. His father, like her own parents, had been a Muggle. Severus had been taken to Hogwarts at the age of nine. He was to have been a servant, but his sharp mind, skills with potions, charms, spells and spell creation had led him to a chance to become a knight.

He waved his hand in front of her face. ”Mrs. Potter, I have asked you three times, what do you think the point of them trying not to hit each other is?”

She shook her head. “The point is to come up with a spell that should be used to counter the other’s hex. It's a game they play regularly. If you don't do that when you practice, Severus, what do you do?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I tend to simply use a shield to defend myself, Mrs. Potter.” As if there was no other way to practice in his mind. As if it wasn't practicing if you were not trying to maim the other person.

She sighed loudly laid back in the grass. Severus was just, well, Severus. Nothing was ever going to change him. Maybe that was the reason her husband was so fond of him. Or maybe it was the fact they had grown up together. When he had been very young, before Hogwarts, he had been brought to the castle to serve the Potters. Muggleborns and children like Severus were usually taken from their families between five years old and eleven. Sometimes younger, though never older. Wizards felt Muggleborn children then got too attached to their families. She called bullshit. At any age, a child was attached to their parents. Unless that is you were abused and neglected as Severus had been. She knew a little about his background, and that made her not interested in learning anymore. His father had tried to ”beat the magic” out of him. Severus’s father, and those like him, were why they were at war with those who believed the Muggles were good and should be allowed to know about magic.

When he was seized by those of this court, Severus thanked them, as did his mother. Severus was functionally a ”playmate” servant for Harry. He was allowed to be like any other nine-year-old, though his ”job” was to entertain young Harry. They had become close friends during that time period. Harry’s father James had not liked it, but his mother Lily had been pleased about it. She also liked that Hermione and Severus had been born into the Muggle world.

Now Severus was a knight, no different than Draco, Ron, Bill, or Sirius. But Severus also knew, as she did, their standings as Muggleborn people meant they had a shorter distance to fall from grace. So while she was not pleased with the idea of him sleeping with her husband, she understood why he did so. Severus liked his life as a knight and he didn't want to lose it, even if it meant being the third person in her marriage. Just as she would not seek to end her marriage on the grounds of cheating. It would result in her being kicked into the town, struggling to make a life for herself.

That was also why she could never act on her feelings for one Draco Malfoy, much as she longed to do so. No matter how much it pained her to never act on the love that had bloomed for him since they were just children, back when she had lived in the cottage the Malfoys had raised them in. Back when she was just another Muggleborn, destined to marry a knight if she was lucky or become a shop keeper if she was not.

Sometimes Hermione wished she never would have caught the eye of James Potter when he sought to arrange a marriage to his son, without much of either of their opinions. He had not even mentioned it to his own wife that he was doing so.

But she only knew about Harry’s father from the stories she had been told, having only met him a few times before that fateful Halloween night three years ago. Before Harry became an orphan. Before he became their leader. Before the boy who had previously wanted nothing to do with her decided he had to follow his father’s wishes, even from the grave.

That, you see, was how two people who never wanted to be married ended up married. That was why Severus Snape was not Mr. Potter, and she not Mrs. Malfoy. Same-sex relationships were allowed in their world, and even accepted by most. It just was harder to produce an heir that way. That took true love -- and power.

In her humble opinion, James Potter had been an idiot. There was no love truer than that which started in childhood. And there were no two men living today that were more powerful than Harry and Severus.

********************

Hermione was sitting at dinner, at her husband’s right hand, as always. Severus was on his left, dressed in robes of black that seemed to engulf him. Nearby sat Draco, the lines of his young face present, and tight. Surely a man in his early twenties should not have so many lines on his face?

They stared at each other, and she took in the way his pale hands lay rigidly on the oak wood table. His eyes rested on the bodice of her dress, and she remembered how low cut it was.

His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, the women who had raised them both, gave each a dirty look. As someone who had spent her whole life at court, she felt they were playing with fire. She just hoped her child, her son, would not be the one to get burned.

Draco and Hermione did not speak regularly in public, which meant basically never. They were too fearful of what the commander might think, and of what he would do to them if he were to find out their thoughts. How he would punish them for their transgressions, which only took place in their minds. These thoughts were betrayals all the same. Or at least they were in the world they lived in.

Harry started to speak, and Hermione turned to face her husband, taking in his wild hair, which was neither wavy or curly. Black as night. Black as coal. His eyes were green, the same color as the killing curse. His skin was pale and clear. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in a way, he did just that. He was the one who stood against the raids that ripped apart the houses on the edge of the community. He was the one who had the final say of where Muggleborns or half-bloods with one Muggle parent were placed.

Did he regret doing so? He had never asked her what it had been like to be taken from her parents. She knew he only spoke to Severus about such things, not even realizing the former abused and neglected child's opinions on Muggles would be clouded by his father’s abuse. She thought about her own Muggle parents, her mother’s perfume, her father’s laugh. The happy smile he would give her mother. Both of them taking turns at telling her stories at night. As much as she had grown to love the Malfoys over the twelve years they had raised her, Narcissa would never be her mother. Lucius would never be her father. And thankfully, Draco would never be her brother.

Her parents were the people she had not seen since she was six years old, Anna and Mark Granger. Two people who would have loved their daughter more than anything, no matter the fact that she was magical. Not that her husband cared about her opinions. To him, she was just a stupid woman. Something that should keep her mouth shut, keep her legs spread, and give him sons to take his place.

She snapped out of her own thoughts and actually bothered to listen to her husband ramble on about the Muggleborns they had saved. Her husband was raised in this world, from the day he was born. She did not blame him for opinions. He had been indoctrinated from his own childhood, unlike her. She was able to remember the world outside of these castle walls and the villages which were clustered around it.

The true cause of this horrid practice was Harry’s grandfather, Charles James Potter. He had known a time where Hogwarts was simply a school where magical children went to learn, Muggleborn and magic born alike. Back then, the two realms only brushed against one another when they had to and children like Severus may have been left with his abusive parents, but those like Hermione would have never been taken from hers. Instead of simply taking the children who were abused or neglected, Charles Potter had decided it was better to take them all, for the greater good.

The greater good. She had grown to hate those words. The greater good did not mean good for all, or even good for some, it meant foisting what might help a few on all of them and calling it good. There was no good in removing children from perfectly good parents.

Sometimes she wondered why Severus’s mother Eileen hadn’t just left Tobias, the Muggle. Surely the true greater good would be allowing people like her to leave an abusive man, and allowing children who were abused by both parents a place to go? Charles Potter’s plan had been based on one which could have saved many people, instead, he had warped it into the fractured form it was now.

Truth was, no Muggleborns spoke out against the system, for fear of what could be done to them. Hermione was guilty of this herself. So that left one type of voice, the voices raised in approval.

And one of those loudest voices was clutching the hand of the very man in place to change the practice. Severus. It seemed he could not keep his hands off her husband, even in a public place. Suddenly she wanted to curse on the grave of James Potter. She wanted to never have run into him that day in the market.

************************

Hermione was just Harry’s cover, the little doll he could show off at parties, his ”beard”--that term was sometimes thrown around by other women. The reason Hermione was not pregnant and had never been pregnant, was that her husband had only shared a bed with her once.

On their wedding night, he could not finish. She had offered to help him. She had even at one point wryly suggested Severus join them, anything to get their stupid but necessary heir conceived. But Harry insisted he was not gay, he was not sleeping with Severus! And how dare she suggest he needed a man to be able to get off!

He had slapped her across the face and chucked her out of his chambers that night. She went to her own rooms that night, right next to his. And then she heard the clicking of hard-soled leather boots on the stone floor. Severus, coming to comfort his lover.

She wanted to hate them both. She wanted to out them. She wanted to do such horrible things to them. What stopped her was a photo on her husband’s desk of two black-haired little boys, smiling and hugging, one in rich heavy robes of velvet maroon, the other in robes of evergreen wool. Harry and Severus were being punished far more for the choices of the man who did not care about anyone’s feelings far more than she ever would.

That night Hermione had given up on ever being someone’s mother. That night she imagined Draco had joined her in her room as she touched herself. That night she realized her marriage, no matter how much she tried, would ever be a one filled with love and happiness. That night she stopped hating Severus Snape and Harry Potter for the fact they were in love with one another. Because Harry was never going to admit that he was gay, even to the very woman he was married to saying she would accept that he was that way. Allow him to have his needs met and produce an heir.

But most of all she felt sorry for Severus because he was in love with a man who it seemed, for now, was incapable of admitting to anyone else he loved him. Severus and herself were just two creatures caught in the snare that was the Potter family. They were both going to suffer for the rest of their lives for the actions of James and Harry Potter. That night she realized she was in love with Draco Malfoy, and she was never going to get to be his wife, no matter how much she longed to be.

*******************

Narcissa Malfoy pulled Hermione’s corset tighter. “Breathe,” she hissed.

The woman who raised her helped her into her riding dress. Riding was Hermione’s only escape from her life, the life which was slowly choking the spirit out of her. She rarely spoke to anyone without them speaking to her first. She mostly lived in her mind. With her opinions, thoughts and beyond that in her books. Her precious books.

Lucius had taught her to ride when she was seven after she had basically ignored him for a whole year. He had been the target for most of her temper tantrums. Her first pony was an old forest pony that had been Draco’s before he had moved on to larger horses. The old grey, named Dragon, was moody, touchy and opinionated, just like most ponies. However, he was the perfect first horse. He preferred to walk rather than trot and often he stopped moving at all. The angry little girl had more in common with that pony then she dared to admit. He also helped her see Lucius as something than the mean man who was a piss poor replacement for her Muggle father.

Narcissa turned her when she was finished helping her dress, ”Hermione, depression is unbecoming of your position. And as the years go on, you are only getting worse. I think you should see a mind healer.”

Hermione gave the stern-faced woman a dirty look. Narcissa of all people should know better. She married Lucius when she was barely seventeen. They had never spoken before their wedding. ”And what good will that do?” she hissed. ”Will that make my husband share my bed? Will that stop the court from wondering if I am infertile? He tossed me aside like a broken wand. Imagine being trapped in a marriage with a man who refuses to touch you, who barely looks at you. Tell me, would you be happy if that was the case?”

“No, I would not be.” Her pale blue eyes took in Hermione with her wild untamable curls, her narrow small frame, the wool navy blue riding dress, her brown soulful, but broken eyes. Hermione did not look the twenty-three she was. She looked decades older, with the haunted look that makeup and beautiful clothing could not hide.

“I am going to ride with Father. Artemis is in desperate need to stretch her legs.” Hermione’s sorrowful tone cut through Narcissa like a knife. She stood there watching as the closest thing she had to a daughter left her dark room to go and find her temporary peace in the fields that surrounded the castle.

Narcissa could not save Hermione anymore than she could save her sisters Bellatrix and Andromeda, whose paths were quite different. Any more than she could have saved herself when her own father said she was to marry Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had thankfully turned out to be at least a decent husband. He was far from perfect, but he could have been far worse.

********************

Hermione breathed in the smell of the barn--the hay, the sweat, the leather, and the horses. It was like coming home, far more than her rooms or Harry’s in the castle, or even the Malfoys’ cottage.

“Terry,” she called. The old stablehand came from the tack room near the back of the barn. He smiled at her. He too was a Muggleborn or a half-blood like Snape. He did his job and mostly kept to himself. He had a wand and could use magic, but wasn't heavily trained in it. His clothing was functional, though plain.

He smiled at her in greeting. “I will go fetch Artemis,” he said. Soon the mare was led in the barn from her small pasture. She was a fawn-colored bay, and er brown eyes were sharp and clinical. She was well over sixteen hands. Like her mistress, she had purposeful movements and she was built to cover the ground.

Terry ground tied the mare, leaving the leather lead on the ground near her large hooves before he grabbed her tack and went to work. Just then, Draco of all people walked into the barn. The sheer sight of him sent shivers down Hermione’s back. She had known him for nearly two decades, and yet until she could not have true-time with him, she never realized how much he meant to her.

He smiled at her, his silver eyes beautiful, and he said, “Father is too busy to go riding with you so he sent me.” He went to retrieve and tack his own horse, who was named Lancelot and was a large black gelding who looked as if he was the horse upon which death would ride. The horse and man were exact opposite in coloring, but it simply looked right to Hermione.

Just as Terry was about ready to help her mount Artemis, Sirius Black walked into the barn. He was dressed in a long frock coat of wool, leather boots, and his long wavy hair hung into his once possibly handsome face. His sneer ruined it.

“Well what do we have here?” he asked. His piercing blue-grey eyes judged her just as he always did. Everything she ever did would not be good enough for his precious Harry Potter, his godson. Everything she did under his scrutiny. Everything she did he took in waiting for her to cross an invisible line so he could toss her out. He was her greatest critic. His hatred for her was palpable in the very air surrounding him. He wished to one day tell her, “look how the mighty have fallen.''

She snarled at him, unwilling to be the proper lady Narcissa had so desperately trained her to be. “We are going on our ride. My husband knows I go on rides regularly. He even approves of it. Lucius, my father, normally is my chaperone, but he is busy today. So, he sent Draco. I am sure of the fact that his business is with Harry, so surely he knows that Draco was sent to join me on my ride.”

The smart look she gave him dared for him to question her or to push the issue. Terry helped her mount Artemis while Draco mounted Lancelot. She took the reins in her gloved hands.

“You should not be riding if you are pregnant,” said Sirius. “You could cause harm to the future commander if you do.”

She turned to face him. “I am not pregnant Sirius, and there is no risk to the future commander because as of now there is none.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is still a WIP and will be finished when I can.

Hermione took in the Scottish hillside, the long grass, the creek below, and the overcast sky of grey. Draco turned to her, his skin as pale as the moon, his hair of white-gold long and loose. His eyes were the color of quicksilver and his coat was green as an emerald. ”Why do you never talk to me anymore Hermione? Is it Harry? Is he threatened by our friendship? He has no reason to judge you he's rather close to Snape.”

She shook her head, causing her wild curls to fall in her face. ”It’s improper for the court to see us as close friends, Draco. My husband’s relationship, that causes enough questions as it is.”

Draco dismounted Lancelot and patted his horse’s shoulder, sighing loudly. ”It is not improper to be friends with the man who you raised with as siblings. It is not improper for me to care for you. I love you, Hermione, and it's the proper kind of love.” He lied through his teeth, desperate to spend time with her, to have her in his life even just as a sister.

“Well, I do not see you as a brother!” she cried. “I do not see Lucius or Narcissa as my parents! You will never understand what it is to be me, Draco!” She spun Artemis arounds kicking the mare into a canter. Her split riding dress flew out behind her, as she charged down the steep hill.

Draco stared at her, her wild hair, the beauty of form that looked perfect on the horse. He whispered into the wind, to no one but himself: “We will burn if we have anything else, and is not better to have something over nothing?”

**************************

Hermione stood in her chambers, staring out her window, watching the rainfall. Was Draco still out there in this downpour? Were he and Lancelot alright? Neither of them needed to get sick. Her heart longed to be truthful to Draco, just as she longed to kiss him, and so very much more. But she could not have that. She could not break her vows to her husband; even though he regularly broke them himself.

She should not hate her husband; it was wrong to hate someone, who was just as tangled in the web of ruin as she. But she could strongly dislike and even hate his actions. A person was not just their actions, but they did make up a large portion of who they were.

She heard a knock at her door. She pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door, the two men in front of her stunned. It was Lucius and Severus, looking as different as night and day: Lucius, with his well put-together robes of wool, slacks and silk shirt, in shades of grey; Severus dressed a simple plain black robes.

Lucius spoke first, his tone off for whatever reason. “I am sorry I missed our usual ride, Hermione. Business related to the villages needed tending to, and Arthur is making trouble of such things, as he always does.”

Severus barked out a laugh. “What else would the fool be good for? Court jester?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “No, that would be his twin boys who run a joke shop.”

Severus leaned against her door frame as if he owned it. Maybe in his mind, the place in Harry’s bed meant he did. “So, who was it that went on your ride with you? That mop of stuff you call hair is quite wet, so surely you have been out in the rain.”

Her hair was not sopping wet, it was damp. It easily could have been from her shower. But Snape always needing to dig into things that do not concern him. She could dislike his beak-nosed self for that at least. Merlin would not care if it was truthful after all, would he?

Her eyes narrowed at him, brown meeting black, ”Father sent Draco to join me on my ride. He was free, and we were raised together after all.”

Lucius looked slightly shocked by her answer. Maybe it wasn't he who suggested that Draco to go riding with her after all. Maybe Draco took it upon himself to figure out a chance to spend time with her. It caused her heart to pound. Why would he do such a thing and then suggest he loved her like a sister? Men. They never could be straightforward about anything.

Lucius nodded, pretending he wasn’t shocked after all. He walked away, leaving her with Severus, whose black eyes were growing dangerous. Couldn’t the man just leave well enough alone? “We both know that Lucius did not suggest Draco to join you on that ride, and there is aproblem with a young man doing such a thing.”

Hermione snarled at him, suddenly tired of his games, his judgment, and his stupid face. ”I can think of far worse things, Severus… Like sleeping with a married man.”

He huffed at her. “That is where you are wrong, Mrs. Potter. Far worse is it for a woman who's married to sleep with another man. People can burn for such actions.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, Severus, and Draco and I have never even kissed. Can you and my husband assert the same thing?”

He snarled then, shoving her out of his way back into her room. Steady, perfect Snape wasn’t so steady or perfect if you pushed him just right, was he? Hermione thought he wouldn't dare hurt her; even he could be found guilty of such a thing, and his precious Harry could not save him if he did such a crime.

”You do not know a thing about Harry and me,” he hissed. ”I was promised to him when I was ten years old! And then his father had to go and ruin it with you, the stupid bint. And then you get the man I have loved all of my life, and then you run around with a Malfoy, who might as well be your brother.”

“Draco has never been my brother! If he's my brother than Harry’s yours! And I do not cheat on my husband, but he surely cheats on me!” she cried out. ”Now get out of my room, Snape! Out with you! You can prove nothing because nothing happened! Now Out!”

Snape snarled at her as turned away and walked out the door. ”I have nothing else to say beyond watch yourself, Mrs. Potter, because somebody will happily take your place, and even help you out of it if you cross a line. Harry was mine long before he was yours, it would do you well to remember that!”

She slammed her fist into the wall and yelled to no one, ”I never wanted to be in this position ANYWAY!” She could not hate Severus Snape for loving her husband, but she could sure hate him for being the biggest asshole in the country, couldn't she?

***********************

Hermione, rather than being at dinner as she was supposed to be, was digging through Lily Potter’s things. People rarely went into this room, the woman’s study. It was not exactly forbidden, but it was not a welcomed action either. Harry pretended it did not exist, so others followed that. Well, besides Snape, who was rather protective over this room, screaming at anyone who tried to change anything about it.

She heard a rumor once that he and Lily Potter had been from the same village, and that before that night on Halloween, sometimes people from Hogwarts visited Muggle towns. He seemed rather attached to the memory of Lily Potter, maybe even more so than he was to her son. She had heard another rumor, more a whisper than anything, that the woman was the reason he had been taken from his parents, that she had been the one to pay attention to him enough to notice he had magic, but that was just one whisper. They had artifacts to let them know if Muggle children had magic. Surely it would have noticed before Lily did?

She found a diary of sorts, leather-bound with handwritten notes in it. It might not be a diary, but it was the closest she was going to get to speak to Lily if it was.

She dug around, more looking for anything else, and found a few letters, which she shoved into her bag as well. Then out of nowhere someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned quickly, fearing it might be Snape, and instead was faced with Remus Lupin. His sandy brown hair and disfigured face easily gave him away. His eyes were an intense golden color. They had always unnerved her. But, better him than Severus; at least he wasn't prone to blowing his top.

”Shouldn't you be at dinner?” Remus questioned her.

She couldn't help but say ”I could say the same for you, and yet here you are.”

Remus’s eyes widened, but he said, “You do have a point, Mrs. Potter, we both are where we should not be. But, my position gives me more freedom to be out of place, yours does not.”

Hermione responded ”I am simply trying to learn more about the woman who held the position I do, before me. No one really speaks of her.”

Remus nodded. ”Severus knew her quite well. She raised Harry Your mother was rather close to her, and I did have the pleasure to call her friend. You simply need to ask someone about her. We all miss her and James greatly. I know you did not know her well, but she was a great woman, and is missed by all who knew her, even more than James.”

Hermione’s face pinched. ”Narcissa never has even mentioned to me she knew her. Neither have you ever told me you were friends with her…”

He finished for her. ”... as well as Harry. He isn't one to talk about his past or parents, and Severus has temperament more akin to a viper than a man.”

”Pretty much,” she remarked.

”I will assume this is honest curiosity then, and not mention this snooping to anyone, if you come with me and head to dinner now,” said Remus.

Hermione nodded. ”I was not snooping.”

Remus laughed. “Yes, you were.”

She smiled. “Was not!”.

“Whatever, Mrs. Potter. Now let me escort you to dinner.”

She did just that, leaving Lily’s study missing one diary and a few letters. Remus didn't need to know about what she had taken from a dead woman’s room, and it was not like anyone came in here regularly anyway. Only Snape, and that was just to cry over whatever Lily Potter was to him. Mother? Friend? Like a sister? Hopefully future mother-in-law? Surely you wouldn't just cry over the woman whose family you served, it would not cause you to cry so regularly. Not when you were emotionally locked up like a trap, as he was.

********************

Hermione sat on her bed in her room. She was in her nightgown, her fireplace blazed lighting the room with its glow. She yanked out the diary and started to read it. She skimmed some of the pages. It was a diary starting around the time Severus “joined” the Potter family.

She read that Lily found Severus hiding in the woods. Severus’s mother Eileen had been burned at the stake for being a witch. It was mostly due to her husband, Tobias, saying she was performing magic and had cursed the town’s people. He claimed she was the reason a child was dead. Severus only escaped because he ran away under Eileen’s direction when they came for her. The town’s people planned to burn a nine-year-old little boy because he made flowers bloom.

Hermione’s brown eyes shut. She wanted to throw the book against the wall. She wanted to burn it. She wanted to remove the memories of reading it from her very brain, but she was in for a penny, why not go in for a pound?

Lily sometimes took food and supplies to the village she was from. She had been friends with Eileen Prince, raised together as Harry and Severus had been. Eileen Prince was nearly married off to Sirius Black, but she had refused due to his instability. Hermione agreed with that. The man was unstable. So the woman had run, going to the town her Muggleborn friend had spent the first years of her life in.

She married one Tobias Snape and had a son, Severus. Then when their child was nine he truly started showing magic, mostly when the kind woman with the green eyes and red hair visited. His mother stated it was her doing, she was the one doing such things, trying to protect her child, even while she was begging him to stop.

Hermione remembered her own childhood. When a magical child is angry, afraid or even simply very happy, any strong emotion resulted in magic showing itself.

So Lily found her closest friend’s son that night, with the sounds of his mother’s screams filling the air as she burned, hiding in the trunk of a tree. She could not leave him, even though it was not her job to pick up Muggleborns and those raised Muggle. She put him on the back of her horse and ran back to the castle of Hogwarts as if death was chasing them.

Hermione set the book aside, curled up under her blankets and cried. She could not dare to hate Severus Snape any longer. Not for the fact he slept with her husband, not because he was a jerk, and not even for how he felt about Muggles. Could you blame the now man, who as a child hid while they burned his mother at the stake?

While she did think those Muggles should be punished, and not all the parents Muggleborns. Severus cried over Lily because she was the last connection he had to his mother, the last bit of the woman who gave him life. And the woman who saved his life all those years ago.

Lily was the woman who cleaned his scraped knees, tucked him in at night, told him stories of his mother, took care of him when he was sick and raised him into the man he was today.

Hermione did not hate Severus Snape. She only felt sadness for the man who lost the two people who took care of him in childhood to murder by Muggles. He might even love Harry, not only because he loved him, but because of the fact the man likely understood already what she had just read.

But Harry was also the man who spread the rumor that Severus’s mother thanked the people who seized him. That boy was not seized by the knights, that boy was saved by a woman.

The more Hermione dug, the more she did not understand anything. She now might even understand less than she had before she snuck into Lily Potter’s study.

**********************

Hermione sat next to Narcissa, who was knitting. The women’s fingers moved quickly as if it was magic that moved the needles and not her hands. But it was her hands that did so. This was something that Narcissa has done by hand long before Hermione became part of their family. It was something she did to calm herself.The fire blazed next to Narcissa, reflecting off her face in an odd, but beautiful way. It made her look more like a witch than she did already. The woman had blonde and black hair. It expressed itself this way by magic, her past, her birth family, and the family she married into the Malfoys.

Her eyes were a clear blue, and they reminded Hermione of a river her Muggle father use to take to play near. The women’s fingers were narrow and long. Her skin aged from hard work, and her rather hard life. She might be a noble woman of magical birth, but no matter what century, a woman’s work was never done.

Narcissa asked her harshly,”Why must you and Draco tempt fate? Why must you push the buttons of Sirius, Severus, and even your own father? You married well, Hermione. Extremely well. Harry is a good and kind man. If you can learn to accept the issues he has, you can have a happy life. And Draco can have a happy life with Astoria.”

Hermione wanted to throw her own knitting into the fire, needles and all. She hated the practice. It felt as if it dulled her mind and left feeling ignorant. She was never going to be as good at it as Narcissa, or even Pansy, one of the other girls in court who was married to Ron Weasley.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Mother, he has never spent a night with me. Not in all the years we have been together! They talk about how I am not pregnant, and there must be something wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me! He refuses to even touch me most days. He hasn't kissed me in weeks, let alone anything else. I wish it was that he had taken a mistress, because then I could say there was something wrong with me. That I was lacking in some way. That is false. There is nothing wrong with me beyond the fact that I am not a man and my last name is not Snape!”

Narcissa reached for her glass of wine. She thought to herself, Merlin, Harry James Potter was a special man and that was not in a good way. Most men in his position tended to do their husbandly duty and sire an heir as quickly as possible, then never touch their wives again. Well unless it was a girl. There was very little need for daughters. Wizards, like Muggles, needed an heir and a spare as quickly as possible.

But, unlike Muggles, normally a man of Harry’s persuasion could marry a man and still have his heirs and spares. Well, unless your father was a bigot like James Potter.

She and Lucius had tried for that spare for decades. Ever since Draco had been weaned. Birth rates, however, among purebloods were quite low. Her last miscarriage had nearly killed her. She had three before Draco’s birth, and three after. Last time, before Hermione came into their home, she suggested that she stop her potions and they try again, which with much hesitation Lucius had agreed, but required that she be checked over by a healer.

It had turned out the miscarriage that had nearly killed her had also left her sterile. There would be no more Malfoy children from their union, sons or daughters. Lucius had no interest in taking a mistress because their arranged marriage had become a love match. So, Lucius’s solution had been to go look at the Muggleborn children that had been brought in.

Hermione had caught his eye because of her hair, which vaguely reminded him of the Black sisters, her youngest and oldest sisters. And because the child’s magic had caused her to be released from her bonds. This child would grow into a powerful woman, a woman who would not have six dead babies to bury, six lives snuffed out before they were truly even alive.

And then James Potter had to ruined their plan. The hints that they had given the children when they were just children. Because he too saw the power that Hermione hadn’t realized she had. And it was best that they kept it that way.

Narcissa spoke in a clear voice to Hermione. “There are potions that could help your problems, if you're interested in them.”

“What potions?” Hermione asked.

Narcissa went back to knitting. “Well, there are many options in your situation. If he was just interested in another woman, Polyjuice would work.”

“Well, he's clearly not.”

“You could just drug him,” said Narcissa, “with one of a few different types. They all have the same effects. It would allow you to have enough control of him to do what you need and never have to do it again. You would also take a fertility potion to make sure you didn't have to repeat it. Unless you have a daughter, of course.”

Hermione gasped. “Mother, you’re suggesting I rape the commander, my own husband! The only thing you not suggesting is a love potion…”

Narcissa focused on her knitting. “A love potion would affect the babe’s ability to love, so no, that would not be a good option anyway. Beyond that, they are far harder to get ahold of than what I am suggesting.”

Hermione just sighed. ”Beyond that, Snape is paranoid as a feral cat. None of the options work so long he's at the castle. He's always with Harry. So not only I would have to drug my husband, I would have to get Snape away from him. Unless you know of a potion for that these suggestions morally wrong or not are useless.”

Narcissa said, ”I may know of a way to make Snape go away for a night, or we can have someone be the sire of the child. No one would know.”

Hermione nearly threw her knitting needles at her adopted mother. The woman would not just drop it. She would not just give up and move on. ”I do not want to hurt Severus…”

Narcissa snickered. “So, now he's Severus, is he? He's sleeping with your husband, Hermione. He's making a fool of you! Your husband would be normal if it wasn't for him…”

Hermione snarled. ”Mother, my husband simply doesn't like women sexually. If not for Snape, it would be Terry Boot from the stables or Theo Nott. You can't change what sex you like, or who you want to sleep with. I only wish he wouldn't have damned all three of us by marrying me.”

Narcissa sighed and set her knitting aside. ”Well, he did marry you, and now if he will not do his duty as your husband, you must do it for him. Let me think about our options for men who look like Potter enough, or if we can use Polyjuice on someone willing…”

Hermione said harshly. “No Mother, I am not cheating on my husband. My vows mean something to me, whether or not they mean anything to him.”

“Even if it was Draco?”

Hermione let out a loud gasp.


End file.
